Chapter 2
Chapter Two
LUNA
T he ocean crashes behind me as I leave the water behind. My limbs are tired from the time I spent in the water—maybe an hour, or maybe two. The salt on my skin and in my hair feels like home. For the first time in a long time. I don’t know when I got to the beach, exactly. I was tired when I got up, but my heart felt so heavy I had to do something, so I did what I usually do.
I came down to the beach and swam until I couldn’t lift my arms one more time.
Now that I’ve dragged myself out of the water, it’s a strange combination of sensations on my skin. The salt water left over from my swim is cool as it evaporates, but it’s a bright, sunny day, and the heat prickles between the droplets of water.
My bag is still in the sand where I left it, my towel warmed up from the sun, and it feels good to wrap it around my shoulders. For a few minutes, I let the breeze dry me off while I stare out at the waves. They’re not too high today. Even still, in late spring the beach isn’t as packed as I’d think it would be. This area is a little more private though, I remind myself.
I almost want to go back out, just so I can let the current clear my mind.
But that would be dangerous. I was up all night with my friends, drinking and laughing and trying to feel…
Something other than sadness. I’m lucky to have friends like them. Friends who drive out for hours to a little beach town to chase their friend who’s needing an escape. A beach town my mother used to love.
The shell I picked up on my way back to the sand is smooth in my palm. I turn it over as it dries and shake off the grains of sand that managed to hang on. A piece of my hair blows across my face, but I ignore it, not wanting to reach out from under my towel.
That doesn’t last long. At least my hair is still wet. At least it’s easy to dart my hand out and tuck that stray piece of hair away from my face.
My legs ache. It feels like a long way back to the condo. It’s not that far, really. Only a few blocks through town. It’s even a cute walk, past the little art gallery my landlord owns and cafes and a bookstore that’s home to two cats who hang out in the window. But walking across the sand to get to the sidewalk feels like too much for my weary legs, and then getting all the way home…
Too hard. I need a few minutes to collect myself.
I sit down on the sand instead and pull the towel tighter around myself, then tilt my face up to the sun. It’s still early in the day, especially if you’re planning to stay up all night, which I’m definitely not.
Although I might not have much of a choice. No matter how exhausted I am at the end of the day, sleep doesn’t always come. Sadness meets me instead. It’s this weight on all my bones, crushing my body, and the only way to get through the night is to toss and turn and pace around my bedroom.
Last night should’ve had me asleep until noon, but no luck. I still might be feeling the effects of whatever drink Hazel made last night that she called a cocktail, although by now it’s a pathetic buzz with none of the hope it carried with it last night.
Maybe that wasn’t hope at all. Maybe I only wanted to believe it was hope. Maybe I convinced myself that things were looking up, and I was feeling better. It doesn’t seem like that now. I feel small, sitting on the beach, and incredibly lonely, even though my friends are only a call away. They’re getting ready to leave though. They both have to be at work tomorrow morning so they’re heading home. I had them for one night though and I’ll never forget that. We made the most of it.
I rest my face in my knees and breathe, listening to the rhythmic roll of the waves on the shore. I’ll stay here for a little while longer and let the sun warm me up.
The sound of my phone vibrating in my bag gets my attention.
I fumble in my bag until I come up with my phone.
Hazel: Hey girl, how are you? Woke up and you weren’t here.
Hazel: Just checking to make sure you’re not hungover.
Hazel: If you are hungover know it’s not my fault it’s Janna’s because of the shots.
I can’t help smiling at the screen. Hazel’s one of my oldest friends, and it’s just like her to text me the second she rolls out of bed. If I know Hazel, she might not have rolled out of bed yet at all. She’s probably texting me from under the covers of the blow-up mattress I set up on the floor of my bedroom last night.
Luna: I’m ok.
Luna: Just came to the beach for a swim.
Hazel: Oh god already? It’s so early though!
I chuckle as I look at the time.
Luna: It’s almost eleven.
Hazel: Yeah but we were up so late! How did you sleep?
I don’t want to tell her that I barely closed my eyes. I know I slept, but I didn’t feel rested when I became aware of the room again, and then it was too bright outside and my head was too full of thoughts to try again. So I lie. I don’t want them worrying about me any more than they already are. And I don’t want to taint last night. It means everything to me that they came out to surprise me.
Luna: Good! How about you?
Hazel: Slept so hard. Kind of half sleeping still, but I’ll get up if you want company. Did you go far?
Luna: Not too far, don’t worry about me.
Hazel: I always worry about you.
Hazel: Think you’ll head back soon or do you need more beach time?
Luna: A little more I think.
Hazel: I’ll be here. :)
Tears prick as I realize, last night didn’t make it hurt less. I think the loss is heavier this morning.
Nothing makes it hurt less. I thought the condo would help for multiple reasons. My mom loved this town and loved spending time here in the summers. A condo near the beach and a change of scenery? It should have changed me, too. The sunshine and the memories where nothing mattered and every day was a vacation is what I was after. The party last night was a last-ditch attempt to cheer me up after I called Hazel in tears, wanting to bail on the lease. A month felt like way too long to survive. She got my two other closest friends, Janna and Lindsey, in her car and arrived here with bags of food and even more booze, plus all the movies we liked to watch in school and all our favorite music loaded on her phone.
I have to let it help. I have to get something out of last night. I can’t be the same as I was yesterday, before my friends came.
I try to remind myself of everything I have to be grateful for. The gorgeous weather. The beautiful beach, tucked in next to a small town that’s cozy and welcoming. All the places I used to visit with my mom when we came here. Friends who care so much about me that they dropped all their plans to come party with me for the weekend.
I have so much. I can’t deny that. My thumb rubs rhythmic circles on the shell I found. This shell even and what it means to me.
It’s just that I miss my mom so much. I didn’t realize before she died that missing her would replace everything else. I don’t know who I was before I didn’t grieve for her, and every time I try to remember, all I can think is that she’s gone, and she’s never coming back.
Tears sting my eyes, so I close them gently and tilt my face into the breeze.
“You would think this is a beautiful day and you would have loved last night,” I tell my mother, though I know she can’t hear me. She loves my friends and would have sang karaoke with us if she were here. I look down at the shell in my hand and force myself up before the tears start falling and I move back to the water.
I wish I could have a sign from her. One single sign that would tell me that she’s okay and that life is going to be okay. “Just one sign, please Mom?”